


your brand new history

by days4daisy



Category: Dark Matter (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Blow Jobs, Brainwashing, Dubious Consent, Imprisonment, M/M, Mind Control, Power Imbalance, Season/Series 03, Yuletide Treat
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-25
Updated: 2017-12-25
Packaged: 2019-02-16 22:29:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,127
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13063491
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/days4daisy/pseuds/days4daisy
Summary: "Three," Ryo says.The name makes Three blink in short, rapid confusion. "Marcus," he corrects quietly.





	your brand new history

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Themisto](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Themisto/gifts).



> Happy Yuletide! :)

It should be impossible to hack a neural link uploaded to a single ship’s mainframe, but Zairon employs leading scientists in the field, and their emperor demands results.

They work a string of long nights, plucking wires and tapping keys. Reset after reset. Curses, thrashing - “you bastard, Ryo, you fucking bastard” - seizures, and thick, disconcerting silence.

Ryo approaches the examination table warily. This time is different. No screaming, no threats. This time, Three looks at him with interest. “What is your name?” Ryo asks.

Three tips his head curiously. “Marcus Boone.”

“Who do you serve?”

Three huffs and smiles. “You, boss,” he says. “What’s this all about?”

***

There are members of the court who feel Ryo should have killed his former crewmate when the opportunity presented itself. Ryo does not agree. Why not use their resources to bolster Zairon’s defenses? Three is a master gunsman, and an able thief and hunter. Now that he sees the error of his ways, his talents will serve the empire well.

Ryo's strategy is a slight against the Raza too, of course. He gave Two and her crew every opportunity to return the Blink Drive, but she refused. In return, Ryo has taken a member of her team. The exchange seems only fair.

There are other reasons why Ryo chooses to keep him. He has a harder time rationalizing these.

Three enters the throne room alone. His attire meets the standards of Zairon, old leather jacket replaced by a simple black tunic and pants. He still wears his trademark pistols though, strapped to his thighs by leather holsters.

Three's silence has taken awhile to get used to. The Marcus Boone Ryo once knew was a neutron bomb, but Zairon's scientists freed him from his unpredictability. He is a changed man, for the better.

“Report,” Ryo says.

“Never saw us coming, boss,” Three says. “In and out, light damage, nothing to raise concerns.”

“Good.” Three stands below Ryo’s royal perch, hands at his side. Ryo asks, “Any casualties?”

“Nope,” Three says. “All accounted for.”

“And you?”

Three squints. “And me what?”

“No issues,” Ryo says. “No injuries.”

“Oh. Nah, I’m good, boss.” Three smiles. “Thanks."

Early on, Three assisted in military operations, but he was never included in strategic planning. ‘I want him alive’ was Ryo’s mandate in case of a system malfunction. He has doubts on whether his guards would have followed the order. Honestly, Ryo could not blame them. An out of control Marcus Boone is nothing to trifle with.

Three comes and goes as he pleases now. He has his own quarters, and he attends all briefings. Ryo's head of experimental science enthuses about trying the procedure on Portia Lin next. Ryo has doubts they will get the opportunity to try, but who could have imagined they would find Marcus Boone in their grasp? Life is full of surprises.

“What is that?” Ryo asks.

“What’s what?”

“Your hand,” he says.

“Oh yeah.” Three lifts his left hand, knuckles pink and bleeding. “Jammed it. No big deal.”

“I asked if there were any injuries.”

Three frowns. “Just scratches, boss.”

Ryo knows, but he doesn’t care. He’s been lied to. This should never happen, particularly by a subject designed for honesty. It's the most reasonable excuse for Ryo's anger, anyway. One that does not delve into deeper regrets.

Ryo winds a hand around the hilt of his sword. “I want your full report in these debriefs," he says. "Complete, truthful. You are not here to assume what I, your emperor, deserves to know.”

“Yeah, but-”

“If you _sneeze_ during an operation, I want to know about it. Is that clear?”

Three looks baffled, brows halfway up his forehead. Ryo allows himself a bitter moment to enjoy the reaction. It’s the most emotion he’s seen from Three since this experiment began.

Three’s surprise fades into something soft and troubled. “Sure,” he mumbles. “Sorry, I, uh- I was way outta line on this one. Won’t happen again.” Three is contrite, respectful, exactly how Ryo demanded he be remade.

Ryo taps a frustrated finger against his mouth. “It had better not.” Three nods, and his eyes shift, uncertain. Ryo sighs. “Come up here,” he says.

Ryo wonders if this will be the day Three breaks the neural bridge and comes for his head. He prepares himself every time, fingers on his sword’s sheath.

As it turns out, today is the same as any other. Three stands in front of Ryo without a word. A moment later, he kneels. Perfect, practiced, like Three has been prostrating himself his whole life.

Ryo should be used to this sight, but he still feels a thrill at his own power. He could leave Three like this for hours. One evening, riled, Ryo did. He snarled his way out of the throne room and retired to his chambers. On a whim, a midnight peek into the grand hall confirmed that Three had not moved. He knelt before the vacant throne with an expression of complete stillness.

Three bows without a hint of anger. He is relaxed waiting for Ryo’s next command. Part of Ryo resents how easy this control seems now. It's as if Three simply gave up, like he refuses to fight.

It's easy to forget the weeks of failed attempts it took to get this right. The anger, screams, and - on one occasion - the broken, “Four, if you’re in there, just off me already. Please. _Four_.”

Now, Three submits like it’s the most natural thing in the world. He is at peace on his knees before the emperor of Zairon.

“Show me your hand,” Ryo says.

Dutifully, Three offers his injury for Ryo's inspection. The cuts across his knuckles are shallow, skin plumped red and crusted with dried blood. They will heal quickly. Ryo sighs. “When we're finished, you will report to medical and have your hand disinfected.”

Three nods. “You got it.”

“Untreated, the injury may linger. Become infected. You could lose that hand. Do you want that?”

“No, boss,” Three says.

“You see how lying to me is selfish.” Three is visibly uncomfortable, and Ryo latches onto his faltering. “If you lose your hand, there’s no guarantee that we can regenerate it. Your carelessness would weaken us. Do you want Zairon to fall?”

Three shakes his head adamantly. “I’m sorry,” he says. He sounds regretful, and Ryo finds himself in conflict. He wants this obedience, but he hates it too. The Marcus Boone Ryo once knew would never stand for this treatment. Somehow, some way, he would fight these mental shackles. He would _win_.

Ryo waves a permissive hand, and Three comes to him. On his knees before the throne of Zairon, Three begins unlacing Ryo's royal robes. Three splits the folds of Ryo’s clothes and traces lips up the ridges of his abdomen. Eyes closed, tender, he loosens Ryo’s pants.

“You locked the door?”

“Yeah,” Three says. His moustache scrapes Ryo’s skin as he nuzzles his way down.

Ryo struggles to focus on Three alone, not on the unease gnawing at his mind. Three’s expression is too peaceful. His mouth is open, breathing hot against the stirring of Ryo’s erection.

Ryo combs a hand through his hair. He pauses, fingers in his fist, and pulls. Three hisses when his head is forced up.

“A bit eager, are we?” Ryo says. Three smiles and sets hands on Ryo's thighs. He pushes himself high enough for a kiss.

This Boone is a shadow of the man Ryo used to know. Their first time was the frantic culmination of months of tension. Anger, resentment, and the unbridled victory of a heist executed to perfection. Ryo was wiping blood off the blade of his sword. He glanced up and found Three - Marcus then - cleaning his gun barrel. His eyes were on Ryo, and he was licking his lips.

This Three does not know what it’s like to chase. He does what he’s told. This includes kissing Ryo until Ryo says, “Enough.”

Three moves to his neck as his hands shove Ryo’s pants to his knees. He kneads his way up Ryo's thighs the way Ryo likes it. Three knows, because he's been programmed to. Everything is fake, from the teeth scraping Ryo's neck to the exhales bursting down his chest.

Three grins at Ryo’s cock, thick and blushed. He's perfect - the twinkle in his eyes that Ryo always liked, the mischievous hum in the back of his throat.

Ryo grabs Three's chin to stop him. “I’d like a drink,” he says.

Three looks between Ryo's face and his erection. This break isn’t in their usual script, and his puzzlement shows in narrowed eyes. But Three shrugs after a moment and jogs down the steps to the main floor. “What are you in the mood for, boss?”

“Call me Ryo,” Ryo says. Three nods like the request isn’t out of the ordinary (it is) and hovers over Ryo’s liquor case. He waits for instruction, and Ryo scowls. “Pick something.”

Three takes out a thin rose gold bottle. “Bottle only,” Ryo mutters, when Three reaches for glasses.

As he wishes, Three places the glasses back on the shelf. He unscrews the bottle's top as he returns to the throne and holds it out for Ryo to enjoy. “Sake, I guess,” Three says. “You know more about this stuff than me.”

It's a canned response, Ryo thinks bitterly. 'You know more about this stuff than me.' It comes out about alcohol, swords, strategy, and - jarringly - post-coital care.

Three seems unaware of his own repetitiveness. He returns to his knees and flattens hands on Ryo’s legs. His gaze is warm and expectant, and Ryo grimaces. He tips the bottle back for three pointed mouthfuls. It burns, but it isn’t enough.

Ryo glares at the fingers combing stripes against his thighs. “Drink,” he says, thrusting the bottle at his old friend.

Three blows out sharply after his gulp. “Got a kick, don’t it?” Also a canned response. Most liquors seem to fetch it, with the odd exception of gin. Ryo vaguely remembers it not being Three’s drink of choice.

Three starts to hand the bottle back, but Ryo shakes his head. “Drink,” he says. Three grins and happily takes another swig. He swallows long and deep and wipes his mouth with the back of a hand.

Ryo has not figured out if it's possible for this rewired Three to be drunk. Three can exhibit the physical signs of inebriation - glassy eyes, red cheeks. But his speech does not falter, and his attentiveness never seems to dull.

Not like it used to. One particularly sloppy night, Three punched his quarter's door code wrong again and again, swaying and cursing. Four - he was Four then - draped carelessly over Three's back. He dragged a hand down the tented front of Three's slacks, murmuring "Focus" in his ear. S _onofabitch_ , Three slurred helplessly as he slammed his fist against his door.

Ryo finishes the bottle. It shatters loudly when he tosses it, and Three smirks when Ryo's wet lips cover his.

Real or not, there are times Ryo can allow himself to revel. Three is warm, and his mouth is open and agreeable. Ryo grabs a fist of his hair, makes him groan when he pulls it.

Isn't this a kinder fate than what the Raza would have led Three to? Death, torture, imprisonment - for a man with Marcus Boone's rap sheet, what other outcome could there be?

“Go on,” Ryo says. Three’s mouth tilts, all mischief. Permission granted, he descends.

Three is good. Dimly, Ryo wonders if he always was. He was less cooperative, that's for sure. Everything was a fight with Three or Marcus. Their sex came with bruises, nails, and snarls. Ryo could have found an easier time with another member of the crew or on an R&R stop.

But Three was good, or maybe he seemed so because of the fight it took to have him. Three lit up when, finally, Four would pin him to the bed. Three liked to be bested, but he never made it easy. It's what he needed, what he craved, but he wanted to go down with a fight.

Three's agreement is easy now, open smile around the head of Ryo's cock. Ryo has a nice angle to watch Three's face settle. Three rewards him with more, inching Ryo down. He takes his time, practiced but in no rush to prove himself. Everything he does is for Ryo's enjoyment.

This can't be science alone, Ryo tells himself. There is intuition to pleasure. Three isn't an android. His mouth is warm and wet, and his lips are soft. Ryo palms Three's hair in encouragement, and Three takes more of him. He stretches out the time, lets Ryo feel his mouth widen. Three's face is as peaceful as Ryo has ever seen it. His lashes, long and dark, a warmth to his cheeks that matches his mouth, red and shining wet.

Three chuckles around him, shivers of sound that Ryo feels in his gut. He allows his head to tip back against his throne as Three's face nestles deeper in his lap.

He was made for this, Ryo thinks, and for Zairon. The Raza's mission was suicide. They were foolish to deny Zairon the Blink Drive and stand against the corporations and the GA. For all his bluster, Three understood. This universe does not want to be saved, it was never the Raza's fight.

Ryo watches through low eyes as Three takes all of him, a hum in his throat. His neck is tight from effort, tongue a dizzying presence. He coaxes twitches from Ryo's waist and approval from his snarl-drawn mouth.

Three was made for Ryo. It's an intoxicating thought, and Ryo feels the weight of his own duty. It makes his breaths stutter and his hands rake Three's shoulders.

Ryo is not cruel. Three has more on Zairon than he ever had on the Raza. He has purpose, and he has comfort. He has an army at his back, and he has the protection of his emperor. This was Ryo's unspoken promise when he met Three's eyes on the scientists' table, when he faced his old friend's fear and hurt.

It is Ryo's duty to protect him. To keep him sated, comfortable, alive.

Ryo's palm hooks over the damaged knuckles on his thigh. Three stiffens, pausing over the glossed head of Ryo's cock. He seems to understand, a sobered flick of moss eyes up at his emperor. Three's smile is absent of humor, an unspoken promise of his own.

Three takes Ryo down again, harder now, mission set. Dedicated to his cause, to his emperor, to Zairon. Ryo's hips jut of their own accord. Three is perfect like this. He does not need to do much, his obedience makes warmth flood Ryo’s gut as his breaths break with want. His orgasm comes on quickly, a surge of sensation that rushes from head to toe. His feet curl in his boots, and his fingers tingle.

Three swallows without complaint and holds Ryo in his mouth until his body stills. Ryo grunts as he's released, shivering without the warmth of Three around him. Three wipes his mouth on the back of his uninjured hand. His eyes are large and searching, seeking out his next task.

It doesn't normally take Ryo so long to instruct him. Three's gaze hollows with uncertainty, a frown tugging at his swollen mouth.

"Three," Ryo says.

The name makes Three blink in short, rapid confusion. "Marcus," he corrects quietly.

Ryo shakes his head. "Three."

Three's brow creases, and he opens his mouth like he wants to say something. Argue? No, arguing is no longer within Three's capabilities. Still, he doesn't look happy. "Alright," Three says, reluctant. "Does that..." He pauses, licking his lips. "Are you, uh, Four now?"

The words should mean nothing to Ryo. Just a call and response built into Three's neural mapping by a scientist Ryo will have a stern talk with later. But his stomach still drops, and a chill licks his spine.

He remembers the last time Three called him this name. It was the last time Ryo saw him, truly saw _him_ , before the neural bridge was complete. Before the Three Ryo knew was dead.

"Is that a problem?" Ryo asks.

Three's frown grows more agitated, but he holds his anger in check. He glares at a far wall rather than at the leader he owes allegiance to. "It's just," Three says, cautious, "I'm not supposed to call you that."

It isn't a shock to hear. Though not a request Ryo made of his team, it was a fair assumption on their part. This is a slippery slope, and it was a wise failsafe. Three isn't here to relive Ryo's past. He's here because he is an asset to Zairon in a war that must be won.

Ryo's dissent is instinct, a spark of anger that crackles through his chest. He takes Three's chin between thumb and forefinger. Emotions play on Three's face; nervousness, displeasure, a shred of doubt. Things Three should no longer be capable of.

"Who do you serve?" Ryo says. "Your emperor, or the ones who made you?"

His hand falls in surprise when Three snarls, showing teeth. He looks cornered and furious, and excitement rushes through Ryo's veins. His dark eyes light, and he leans forward, open robes draped over his exposed skin. Ryo sees the conflict warring in Three, he _sees_ it, fury swirling like a tempest in eyes that have been so subdued.

"Fine," Three says. "Four."

For being on his knees, Three moves quickly. It's Ryo's instincts that save him, he feels the fist flinging towards his chin before it hits. Ryo jerks back, then forward, taking advantage of Three off-balance. Three twists and scowls under him. He twists and kicks, and Ryo holds him harder. He pins Three between his knees, gritting his teeth at the friction of Three's clothes. Three's eyes are wild, his mouth wet and sneering.

"Three," Ryo says. Three's scowl turns into a smirk. Something sad and yearning clenches in Ryo's chest.

He digs his fingers into Three's shoulders, breaths hot and unsteady. Three's exhales match, labored and shaking. Still Zairon's, Ryo thinks, light-headed with the possibilities. Still Zairon's, and still _Ryo’s_ , but different. Something is different.

He kisses Three and feels his smirk thaw. Three bites, and Ryo hisses, relishing the pain as Three's arms close around him.

"Four," Three says, voice stripped raw. Ryo stops to examine him, his sharp eyes, his vague smile, the sore redness of his mouth.

Ryo will make this worth it to Three, he tells himself. He'll make everything worth it.

"Come on," Ryo says, and he descends again.


End file.
